


Breathe

by Imagining_in_the_Margins



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, Dom/sub, F/M, Hurt Spencer Reid, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Oral Sex, Post-Prison, Sex, Smut, Spanking, Sub Spencer Reid, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-30
Updated: 2020-09-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 23:01:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26735566
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagining_in_the_Margins/pseuds/Imagining_in_the_Margins
Summary: Spencer has to confront Cat, but this time his girlfriend is with him.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Reader, Spencer Reid/You
Comments: 1
Kudos: 79





	Breathe

There were so many places I would have rather been than the parking lot of the Mount Pleasant Women's Correctional Facility, but that was where I found myself on a rainy Thursday morning. If I had been there for the execution of Cat Adams, it would have been a better day, but I wasn’t, so it was a shit day.

To my right was my boyfriend, who I suspect wanted to be there even less than I did. His eyes were fixed straight ahead, like the destination would change if he glared at it hard enough.

We had to go inside. It would be hard for him, to reopen the wounds she'd caused for the third time now, but it was necessary. She wasn’t our only lead, or even the best one. It was just one of those situations where the problem would be solved so easily if we could just break one person. I'd tried to convince Spencer to refuse, but he couldn’t. Not when the plan seemed so easy in theory.

But it wasn’t easy. Not when it was Spencer alone in a room with Cat.

“Look at me,” I whispered before reaching out to him, hoping that it would cause less of a shock. He didn’t even hear me, though, too caught up in his own head. He jumped at my fingers on his face, but then quickly melted into their touch.

Hazel eyes bore into mine with a silent plea that this time would be different. That this time, he wouldn’t have to hurt. I couldn’t promise him that, so I gave him the only thing I could.

“Breathe,” I instructed, “You will not let that stupid bitch get to you.”

He smiled at the loving pet name I had given her, leaning harder into my palm before laying a small kiss on my wrist.

“I know I shouldn’t, but—“

“She has no control over you,” I swiftly cut him off, covering his mouth before a single worry could escape it. Even then, he looked at me like the stars were in my eyes; full of wonder and amazement. I removed my hand just enough to sneak a kiss to his lips. Without removing them entirely, I gave a more explicit reminder, “You are mine. And I don’t kiss nice.”

“You always kiss me nice,” he replied with a hint of sadness. Like there was something wrong with the fact I held him like he was made of glass.

“That’s because you’re my baby,” I cooed, running my fingers through the messy, wispy curls that had formed thanks to the sudden downpour and his knack for not carrying an umbrella. I saw him, his eyes closed and mouth slightly ajar, brows furrowed as he tried to avoid the unavoidable inside his head. I wanted to pull him back to me, to show him what I saw. Because I saw Spencer Reid, the man I loved more than anything. The man who could survive anything.

“You’re stronger than her,” I thought out loud, which was thankfully enough to earn another small smile from the man. “And I have faith in you.”

For those few seconds, at least, he believed me. I just hoped that it would last. Because if Cat saw one splinter of distrust, she would bat at his loose ends until he lay tangled on the floor. It was a mess I’d seen before. Days, weeks, months spent putting him back together again— I would do it every time.

But this time could be different. Cat might have known how to take Spencer down, but she had never known me.

—

Powerlessness is a funny thing. True powerlessness, after all, is very rare. It’s not often that there are things completely out of your control— most things in this life require a complicit party. That was never truer than when it came to mine and Spencer’s relationship. Each and every day, he relinquished his power to me. In exchange, I promised never to hurt him.

But that day, it wasn’t my promise and it wasn’t me that Spencer was handing his power over to. It was the poisonous bitch on the other side of the glass, eyeing him in a way that was quite different from the way I would. It wasn’t the fact that she looked at him like she wanted to break him down to his basic parts partnered with the fact that there was no evidence she wanted to put him back together again.

I knew that much already, but it didn’t make it any easier to watch. Especially not when Spencer seemed so open to her. I wasn’t threatened by her. I wasn’t worried that Spencer would stray or that he would break any of the other rules carefully curated between the two of us. It was just that… Well, I fucking hated her, and I didn’t want her to play with my toy.

There was no obvious last straw, no specific thing that caused the dam of my patience to break and flood the room. I was honestly just tired of watching them go back and forth, knowing damn well that she wasn’t going to break. This wasn’t like before; she didn’t have a grand master plan. She just happened to know a gal who knew another gal. She would do whatever she could to drag out her interactions with Spencer as long as she could, considering she would be dead soon anyway.

Neither of them expected it when I swung the door open, a tablet tucked under my arm and my hand still on the door handle as I announced, “Alright. Time’s up. Spencer, you can leave now.”

“I think Spencie should stay,” Cat immediately replied, reaching forward to grab his wrist before he could stand up. I didn’t look at the contact, although Spencer did, because I knew he was a good boy. I knew that he would do what he was supposed to. And sure enough, he tugged his wrist back and away from her just in time for my reply.

“That’s cute. I don’t care what you think.”

Spencer’s eyes were glued on me, although Cat seemed to be avoiding me. If looks could kill, I imagine that both she and Spencer would have dropped dead from the odd triangle of eyes battling for the attention of another.

Funnily enough, Spencer was the only one without the homicidal intent in his eyes.

“I think it should be his decision, don’t you?” Cat feigned innocence like she always did – poorly and with a sickly saccharine tone.

“It’s always his decision with me,” I answered with a boredom that starkly contrasted her dramatics. From the corner of my eye, I saw the way his shoulders fell, his body relaxing immediately at the thought of an escape.

I wished that I could do more, but when he walked past me the most that I could do was allow my hand to brush against his arm.

The thing about women like Cat was that they were selfish. They needed the attention to be on them and if I could give that to her, she would be more willing to behave. Then again, it also made it so that my full attention was the very last thing I wanted to give her. It wasn’t until I'd made my way into Spencer’s chair that my eyes finally left her, dropping to the tablet screen in front of me with a similar boredom.

“Neat trick. How much practice did it take?” Cat asked, leaning back in her chair to try and pretend like she wasn’t angry at the result.

I didn’t even look up to acknowledge her question, although I did drone a simple response. “We’ve been together for two years. But to answer your question, none. Turns out if you aren’t a psychopathic bitch, he’s very obedient.”

God, it felt good to be able to say it to her, although I figured it was playing into her preconceived notions on the kind of woman I was. She knew Spencer, after all. She had to have some kind of idea, no?

“Hm. Two years. That means you met him right around the last time I saw him,” she pointed out like it was supposed to mean something. There were a few different routes I could take, and unfortunately for both her and the person I'd come there to try to help, I wasn’t feeling particularly charitable.

“Wouldn’t know. We don’t discuss you.”

She laughed, leaning forward and speaking in a fake-whisper, knowing that Spencer would still be able to hear her from the other side of the glass. “I bet not,” she said, waiting for me to look up at her before she finally finished, “Might get a little awkward, all things considering.”

“Considering which part?” I asked, dropping my hands from the tablet to the table and rewarding her taunt with what she wanted: my attention. Although, I’m not sure she was expecting what was coming her way. “Considering… The part where you tried to murder his mother? When you ordered someone to rape him? When you framed him for murder?”

Cat just kept laughing, even as I continued. She was clearly displeased with the fact that I'd dubbed her order a rape, because it meant that I not only knew about it, but also that Spencer didn’t want to help her in any willing way whatsoever. To drive that point home, I raised my eyebrows in feigned exasperation as I sighed, “Or was it when you kidnapped his girlfriend’s family to try and force him to sleep with you?”

“I thought you said you didn’t discuss me. That sounds like quite a bit of pillow talk,” she cooed. Honestly, my first thought was that she was bad at it. Too broken to even properly mimic a mother. No wonder Spencer didn’t want her.

“I can read a file,” I said with a roll of my eyes, lifting a hand to rest my chin in my palm.

“Really? You look like the kind of girl who never really had to do much of anything.”

It was funny she considered it an insult. If anything, I would love to be able to skate by on doing nothing. It was almost a compliment, the idea that I could make others do anything for me. But at the end of the day, that’s what Cat wanted, not me. I didn’t care what most people were willing to do for me, and that was especially true for Spencer. His obedience wasn’t attractive because of the convenience or power; I appreciated his subservience because it might that he felt safe with me.

The thought brought a smile to my face, which I unfortunately felt the need to explain. “There’s a lot of things I can do that you aren’t capable of.”

“Is that what this is? You just want to prove you’re better than me?” Cat asked, her mouth hanging open like snake ready to devour her prey. “Because that’s sort of pathetic.”

Watching her more closely, it was so obvious how her little ploy worked. She made you feel like you knew what you were doing, but with one well-aimed insult you would be caught off guard. If I hadn’t tamed my fair share of brats, she might have gotten under my skin. She was just a girl who overcompensated for the lack of attention she'd had as a child, desperate for anyone to look at her, even if it was with the wish to kill her with their bare hands. 

That’s why I tried to wipe that emotion the best I could. I tried to think of Spencer on the other side of the glass, which was a lot easier when his face popped up on my screen. I smiled again, although this time I didn’t explain why immediately. I let her sit in her silence for a few more seconds, pretending like I hadn’t even heard her last question or the unwelcome commentary.

“Listen Cat, I know I’m not the one you were hoping to talk to today, but I have a compromise. You talk to me, and in exchange…” I mumbled, pressing a couple more buttons before I turned the screen for her to see. “You can watch his reactions. You know how bad he is at hiding things.” It was a lie, but I didn’t need her to know that. Spencer had known this was the plan all along, and he was actually a _very_ talented liar when he wanted to be.

Her pupils gave her away, dilating just enough for me to notice before she looked away again. She didn’t want me to think that she wanted it, but it was obvious that she did. Her irises even shook as she struggled to keep away, clearly trying to make his features out in her peripherals.

“Why don’t you just let me talk to him if he’s so obedient?” she asked, snapping her head back to me and making a point to avoid looking at the screen. If there was one thing that I could give her credit for, it would be her ability to sound angry above all else. The aggression was rolling off her in waves and I could see how an unprepared person might have been swept away in the undertow.

“Because I don’t like you.”

I wasn’t unprepared.

“So forward!” she playfully replied, shimmying her shoulders in satisfaction at hearing the words. She wanted me to admit that I didn’t like her because she wanted to let herself believe it was because I was intimidated by her. But I wasn’t intimidated, either. In fact, I was a little bored.

“You know why we’re here. Give me the information I want and maybe I’ll let you talk to him again,” I said through an obviously fake smile, drumming my fingers against the table as I whispered, “I might even let you touch him.”

“What is he, your property?” she asked like the idea was preposterous.

So imagine her surprise when I didn’t even hesitate to respond with a whole-hearted, “ _Yes_.”

Her lips pursed, her tongue covering her teeth beneath her lips as she struggled not to correct me. Because the second she tried to say that he was hers, she knew that she would have no ground to stand on. She’d already lost the first battle for his attention today.

She wasn’t the most interesting woman in his life anymore and she fucking hated it.

“Really?” she called, craning her neck to look past me into the two sided glass, “This is the one you went with, Spencie?”

I’m not sure which Cat hated more— the way I snapped my fingers or the fact that it successfully made her look at me again.

“I’m the one you’re talking to,” I instructed her, my eyes dark with the rage burning in my veins. I needed her to feel it. I wanted to put my hands on her so that she would catch fire from the residual heat as it escaped me. I wanted to watch her suffer and choke on the smoke of her burning skin until there was nothing left of her.

Judging by her reaction, I figured she felt the same.

“You might have convinced him to be your little lapdog, but not me,” she yelled, standing up from her seat in a pathetic attempt to tower over me. “You don’t get to make me do shit I don’t want to do.”

Leaning back as she had earlier, I crossed my legs and tapped on my temple to show that I was growing bored with her dramatics. She didn’t scare me in the slightest. If I had to describe how I felt about her in that moment, it would be more akin to something like wrangling a toddler in the toy section of a department store.

Her toy belonged to someone else.

“So testy. I might actually think you’re capable of feeling,” I chuckled, looking up and down her body, draped in a prison jumpsuit that, dare I say, suited her rather well.

“There’s plenty of things I’m capable of feeling.” Her words were rushed and almost panicked. I was starting to believe that she could feel because she was displaying the proof right in front of me.

“Like what? Anger? Sadness?” I leaned forward again, tilting my head up as I rested both elbows on the table, holding my chin and smiling when I said, “Jealousy?”

She lowered herself to my height, crouched over the table and coming just an inch away from my face. I didn’t move.

“Oh, I am _so_ not jealous of you,” she mumbled, but I was unconvinced.

“No? My mistake then,” I murmured, suddenly finding the energy of the room shifting back into apathy. It was a pointless exercise, to keep playing with her if she was going to be so responsive. The only hope to actually get information out of her was if she could play along. But she couldn’t. She was too upset. Too childish. I yawned, unable to pretend any longer. “You know, if that’s the case, this might just be a giant waste of time.”

Abruptly standing, I didn’t bother moving the chair back to its rightful place, and I left the tablet perched on the desk in front of her. It was still useful to me. Not for the case, mind you— just my own sick satisfaction.

“Where are you going?” she croaked, the shackles around her feet shaking as she tried to follow me around the table. She didn’t make it very far before I stopped, turning back to her and tilting my head to the side.

“I’m leaving, Cat.”

Crossing her arms, she raised her eyebrows in a challenge, a smile to hide the fear that her fun was about to end. “Wow. I thought you were supposed to be good at this.”

I sighed. It was too apparent. Too easy. She’d lost her edge after spending a few years in prison. It would be a mercy to her when they finally put her out of her misery. “I know a lost cause when I see one,” I told her with a small shrug. I almost actually made it to the door that time, only for her to catch me just before my hand hit the handle.

“Coward,” she said.

_Coward._ What a funny way to insult me. I glanced through the mirror, knowing that Spencer was watching me just the same. Just those few minutes alone with her and I’d almost forgotten why I hated her so much. It wasn’t just the fact that she was boring or predictable, or even the heinous crimes she’d performed against strangers.

It was the fact that she'd hurt him and had the audacity not to kiss his tears away. 

“You want to know two things I’m capable of, Cat?” I sneered, turning back and rushing over to her until our chests were close enough to feel the body heat. She patiently awaited the answer, knowing that it would be as devastating as it always was. A reminder of why people left. A reminder of what she didn’t have. “One is obvious: I get to leave. But the other one…” My voice dropped to a much lower register, rumbling with the force the words carried. “Tonight, I get to hold Spencer down and use him for _whatever_ I want. And he’ll fucking love it. He’ll call out my name over and over again until he forgets his own. He’ll worship me just like he does every single day.”

At some point, my voice had raised again, a smile curling over my lips as I continued to rant much like my boyfriend taught me. I could almost feel him there, holding my hand as he watched me use him as both sword and shield to take down the woman who always found a way to hurt him.

“No tricks. No lies. Just love. The things you’ll never have, I get them all. Freedom and a life with him.” My hand over my heart, I felt the way it fluttered at the thought of him. But then I opened my eyes and saw her again; a disappointing sight, definitely, although the undercurrent of rage was slightly funny. So I laughed as I finished, “I guess all things considered, that’s more than two things, huh? Sorry, never really been good at math.”

With a wave of my hand, I was off. I didn’t care to see how she responded now that my mind was fixated on way more interesting things. I could practically feel Spencer on the other side of the wall, aching to be near me again. I knew he felt that way because I felt it too. I didn’t stop moving when she spoke that time, continuing to open the door as she spoke.

“I’ll still always have that part of him, you know. The parts he doesn’t show you.”

I paused, the door open and my back still to her. There were so many layers to that sentence that she would never understand. So many hilarious, fundamental misunderstandings of the man she claimed to have some part of. It was… sad for her. I gave her a small glance back and a smile, deciding that it was only the merciful thing to do.

“I think you might be surprised about the sides of Spencer I’ve seen,” I finally concluded before the door shut behind me, locking her back in the metal box she belonged in.

The silence was so comforting, an audible reminder that it really was that easy to leave her behind. But the truth was, I wasn’t done messing with Cat yet. I’d left the tablet there on purpose, for one last triumphant ‘ _Fuck you_ ’ to the brat who had done exactly what I'd expected.

She thought she was the only one who got to see that side of Spencer. But Spencer would do _anything_ I asked him to do. So when I made my way back to his side, I saw the flicker of darkness in his eyes. It was the only warning I got before his hands were on my shoulders, shoving me back against the wall to my immediate left.

It was a change of pace, to say the least. I didn’t hate it as much as I thought I would, although I supposed that knowing he was just following orders made it a bit easier. Still, there was something about the intensity with which his hand wrapped around my throat that made my breath catch before it even got there.

Spencer wasn’t just playing along with orders to make Cat mad, although I was certain he was happy it accomplished that purpose. He was trying to tell me something else too. It would take me awhile longer to figure it out; I was a little distracted at the moment.

His hand around my throat was nothing compared to his mouth on mine, hard and roughly connecting us as his other had snuck into my hair. I didn’t bother holding back the moan, knowing that Cat would be able to hear me and loving the thought of her padding back to the screen at the sound of us together.

I couldn’t tell you how long we stayed like that, our hands and mouths hungrily trying to battle for any dominance we could find. Having Spencer fight back was… kind of funny, but mostly charming. I’d seen him too often on his knees begging for me to take it seriously. But I knew Cat would.

Once Spencer’s mouth slid down my jaw and over the sensitive skin of my neck, I finally turned my head toward the camera that was broadcasting us to Cat’s front row seat. With one final sigh and a moan, I smiled at the camera. This was the only side of him she’d ever seen and now she got to watch me take that from her, too.

—

Not much had changed by the time Spencer and I made it home. We were still just as anxious, just as desperate for the other. The second we stepped over the threshold, he was mine. Don’t get me wrong— he was always mine. But when my hands grabbed his hips hard enough to leave half-moons behind, Spencer sighed. More relief flooded him as I slammed his back against the wall of our apartment, rattling pictures of the two of us hanging close by.

Even cuter than the soft noises he was making was the way his hips bucked against me, seeking friction so soon. It had only been a few seconds and he was already begging for release. He wasn’t only begging with his body either, although it certainly did most of the talking for him. His head fell back against the wall too slowly to be involuntary, his hand in my hair sneakily trying to guide my attention to his fluttery pulse now displayed for me.

“Please,” he whined, his voice cracking before he could continue. “I want you to use me.”

The sound nearly stopped my heart and I had to remind myself to breathe when he continued to whimper in my ear, the constant rocking of his hips against me bringing me too much joy to ignore any longer.

My hands finally left his hips and his whole body tried to follow. But I had other plans, and with two firm hands on his shoulders, he quickly understood. Without an ounce of hesitation, he dropped to his knees in front of me.

“Good boy,” I sighed, letting him be the one to remove my bottoms. His fingers worked so quickly with the zipper that before I knew it, I was stepping out of the fabric and returning to my rightful place in front of Spencer Reid on his knees.

He nuzzled against my thigh so happily, so ready to receive the instruction and eager to please. I took one of his hands, leading it to the hem of my underwear and implicitly granting permission for him to do what he did best. His astute deductive reasoning was one of my favorite traits of his.

There was nothing else stopping him then. As soon as my underwear was discarded with my bottoms, his mouth was busy peppering kisses across my hips. And as wonderful as it felt, I needed more. The events of the day were catching up to me too quickly and I wanted to get lost in something far more beautiful.

With my fingers in his hair, I brought him back to my center and Spencer gave no resistance at all. As soon as he was properly positioned, his tongue began long, deep lapping motions between my folds. I gasped at first, not expecting such enthusiasm so early on; I’d underestimated him, clearly. My hands in those still messy locks were like controls, and the harder I tugged, the louder he would moan.

“You’re doing wonderfully, my love,” I struggled to sound more put together than I was. I needed to be his rock, his queen, his everything. I needed to be the bed where he rested his weary head and the home that welcomed him after a long day of the worst sort of adventure.

It was hard to be poetic like that though when he was working his hardest to bring me down to my knees with him. His moans where getting louder and more disjointed, a simple glance down confirming my suspicions.

His hand was gripping his erection through his pants, frantically rubbing through the fabric and hoping to find some semblance of release. I didn’t appreciate the distraction. He was supposed to be taking care of _me_. I tugged back on his hair until his neck was craned far enough that he could see my disapproving stare. His thick swallow told me knew he shouldn’t have.

It was so hard to be mad at him when he looked so fucking pathetic. His chin was wet, his eyes half shut in his pleasure-filled delirium. He held his hands out in front of him like he was preparing for them to be tied, but I wasn’t entirely sure why. I’d never bound him before, for obvious reasons. Beyond the trauma of his actual shackles, they were simply never needed. He kept his hands where I told him to... most of the time.

“Just keep your hands off my things, baby,” I explained, bringing his palms to rest against my thighs. “You can hold me instead.”

Spencer was quick to continue, eager to have been granted permission that wasn’t often given. However, I noticed the strangest, smallest sadness in his eyes just before he began making tender, loving motions with his fingers against my thighs.

“Just like that,” I sighed, hoping that the praise would put him back on track and wipe that hesitance from his features. I didn’t get to see yet though, because with a happy hum his mouth returned to its previous position. His tongue was quicker then, obviously trying to make up for the brief pause thanks to his selfishness.

For once, I was grateful that I’d given him permission to hold me because within a few seconds my legs were shaking so hard I nearly collapsed on the floor. I wasn’t sure if it was the emotional overload from earlier or just a testament to Spencer’s desire to please me, but he was succeeding in his mission to absolutely wreck me before we even made it to the bedroom. 

“God, you’re amazing, Spencer,” I cried, my hands tangling in his hair and holding him still against me as I began to rock against him. The sharp angle of his nose dug into my pubic bone, but I couldn’t care. In a way, the pain almost made it better. It didn’t take long for me to reach my peak, mangled groans pouring from my lips as Spencer continued to suckle and flick his tongue over my clit. If I hadn’t pulled him off me, I don’t think he would have stopped for hours. He seemed so content, so happy earning his place beside me.

But I couldn’t leave him completely unsatisfied— although I guess that was impossible, considering how much pleasure he clearly derived just from pleasing me. The thought made goosebumps cover my skin that was still on fire from his touch and before I’d even fully come down, I grabbed the knot of his tie and gently tugged until he was back on his feet. Without any chance for him to regain his balance, I knocked him back again, listening to the small exhale as he smiled at me. 

I loved that smile so much. He barely even wiped his mouth, his tongue sliding slowly over his lips to taste me again while he continued to watch me like I was the only thing he saw. Like it was just me and him, in our own private universe where nothing else mattered.

It felt like nothing else mattered when I kissed him, and I did, carefully and with all the love I could muster. I could taste the heady scent of my own arousal on his tongue and it served as a reminder that the two of us were hardly separate anymore. Everywhere within myself I looked, I saw him. I felt his hands as they gingerly caressed my hips, scared to touch me too much or too little. He always was like that, scared that he might do something wrong. Something to make him unlovable, unwanted, forgettable.

But I couldn’t fathom the thought of forgetting him. I would want Spencer Reid until there was nothing left of me. I tried to tell him as much with a tiny peck on the tip of his nose. The faintest tint of red fell over his cheeks at the action. His bashfulness won out, causing him to bury his face in my neck, his arms locking around me just tight enough to show how needy he felt, despite not wanting to show it.

“Let’s get you in bed, okay, baby?” I quietly asked, brushing my fingers through the disaster I made of his hair.

A nod against my shoulder was his only response. When I pulled away, I made sure we never entirely let go of one another. His hand stayed in mine while I led him into the room, only releasing it so that I could start to remove the layers of his suit.

The suit was a strange symbol. So often a man in a suit is a symbol of power and masculinity, but when I saw Spencer, standing carefully still while I slowly stripped three layers of clothing off, I saw a different kind of power. I saw restraint. I saw trust.

This ritual was as much for my pleasure as it was for him. I would get to enjoy the way his muscles twitched and his breathing altered with each garment removed, and he got to watch me watching him. His eyes, when he was able to keep them open, would follow along as my fingers lingered on his arms and chest, taking in every inch of unmarked skin before I properly got my hands on him.

As his pants dropped to the floor, he wouldn’t move until I told him. He would stand there, bare before me and ready for his instruction. With careful motions, I helped him step out of them for good, and although unsteady, he wouldn’t grab me for balance. He knew I wouldn’t let him fall.

Spencer looked just as perfect as he always did. The faded scars did nothing but add to his beauty. It was the evidence, written on his skin, that he had survived so many things to make it to me. And now that he was here, I would kiss every mark until he felt my lips more than the phantom pain of scarred skin.

When I got my fill, he would be none the wiser. Not until my hands flattened on his chest, knocking him back until his thighs hit the edge of the bed. With the total lack of grace that I always expected of him, he scrambled up the bed until his head hit his pillow.

Normally he would stay there, lying flat on his back and laid out for my consumption. But today, I needed to talk to him. I needed to see him and that evasive sadness.

“Sit up.”

He hesitated, only for a moment before his brain reminded him that there was nothing to be afraid of. Once he sat up, I took my place straddling his lap, my hands making their way to his shoulders to gently massage the still tense muscles. Spencer returned a mixture of a sigh and a moan, his head falling back until it hit the headboard with a soft thud.

“Tell me what’s wrong,” I said finally, only to feel the tension that had started to retreat suddenly reappear.

“I don’t want to talk about it,” he answered way too quickly for my comfort.

“I didn’t ask you if you wanted to talk about it, my love.” I cooed, halting the massage so I could run my hands through his hair and push it from his eyes, hoping that it would encourage him to look at me again. “I told you to tell me.”

Unfortunately, he was in a stubborn mood and his eyes just fell to my body rather than meet my face. Something stirred in my gut at the action that I often suppressed— the desire to punish him. That tiny voice in the back of my head that begged me to grab those messy brown locks by their root and force him to look at me like he knew he was supposed to.

Instead, I used a gentle finger under his chin to push his face back up. It did the job well enough... or so I thought.

Spencer swallowed, forcing his eyes to stop their constant darting before he mumbled in a half-whine, “You’re... too nice to me.”

The words caught me by such surprise, a dead silence fell over the room for the first time probably ever. In retrospect, I wish that I had said something sooner because the shame crept over Spencer’s face so quickly, his shoulders rounding as he collapsed in on himself like a dying star.

“Too nice?” I muttered, brows furrowed and lips pursed. I tried to clarify what he was saying, sure that I must have heard him wrong. “Are you advocating for me to be cruel?”

But as if that wasn’t enough, his response confused me even more than I thought possible.

“If I deserve it,” he said. As if he ever would. 

“You never deserve that, Spencer,” I firmly reminded him, both of my hands coming up to rest on his cheeks. “Not unless you want it,” I tried to explain, frustrated by the way he turned his face away again, trying to hide behind my palm in a painfully pitiful manner.

“Do you want that?” I asked, but he didn’t answer. He just nuzzled his nose into my hand some more, his eyes locked on the nothing in the distance. I wanted to give him what he wanted, but I couldn’t do it without knowing that I wasn’t making a mistake. I couldn’t try to break him unless he trusted me enough to ask me to. “Unless you can tell me you want that, I won’t do it.”

“I understand,” he slurred, the words muffled by my hand against his lips.

“Speak up, baby. I’m not mad at you,” I sighed, accidentally letting some of my annoyance bleed through for just a second. But once I turned him to face me, and those big toffee eyes stared up at me, glistening with the start of tears and something else, my heart melted once more. Then, in an apparent effort to rob me of any breath I had left, Spencer dropped his head back, baring his neck to me even more prominently than he had earlier against the wall.

His chest heaved with heavy breaths that I could still hear over the pounding of my heart. The innocent stare he'd been giving me seconds before turned dark, screaming masochistic desires and pleas that couldn’t be ignored for long. My hand started gravitating to his neck before I even knew it was happening, but as soon as I noticed, I stopped.

I needed him to say it.

“You know I love your voice,” I said with a voice that shook with my rapid pulse, “Use your words.”

“Please,” he begged, so low and pitiful I almost didn’t hear it at all.

“Please what?” I wanted to hear him say it again, to beg for me to do what we both knew he wanted. My fingers brushed over his pulse, but I didn’t put any pressure on yet. I had to wait for it to be perfect. I needed him to give me the permission I needed so that I could finally see what it was like to watch him cry for the exact thing I’d wanted to give him so desperately.

After a moment of silence, and with his voice still crackling from his logical mind resisting the words his body begged for, Spencer spoke again.

“Please hurt me,” he said. “I want you to hurt me.”

When my fingers finally closed around his throat, pressing down on faded hickeys and the scar he’d gotten several years before we met, the rest of my body relaxed. Spencer’s response was far more interesting; his entire body bending under me as he began to buck his hips once more. I hadn’t even really agreed yet and he was already so excited.

“Are you going to be a good boy and do what I say?” I demanded, one hand rooted in his hair and the other happily perched on his neck.

“Yes ma’am,” he hastily replied, whimpering when my nails dug into the soft skin of his neck, warning him to stop moving his hips. He got the message, reluctantly stopping as he looked at me in a pleasure filled haze.

“And you’re going to be an even better boy and tell me if you want me to stop, right?”

Spencer responded with a similar swiftness, but this time it only came as a nod. It was a rule we’d had for ages, but also the one he surprisingly broke a lot. Honestly, the only time the boy didn’t want to talk was the one time he was required to. Sometimes I wondered if he just liked being defiant. Yanking on a handful of his hair, I spoke in a low register and through my teeth, “I don’t care if my hand is around your neck, Spencer. You know the rules. Behave.”

“Yes. I’m sorry,” he squeaked in that high pitched voice I loved so much. “Yes, I’ll tell you if I need to stop.”

As my hand fell from his neck, none of the tension left him. In a way, I think it scared him more when he didn’t know what to expect. There was no need to be that scared— I planned to go easy on him. For now. “Alright, beautiful. Turn around for me,” I said, as calm and sultry as usual. The instruction almost sounded like something that I would have said to him on a normal night, but the sinister undertone warned him that he wasn’t just going to get a back rub tonight.

That didn’t stop me from dragging my hands down his back, occasionally applying enough pressure to see the red lines forming among the goosebumps. His hands were shoved under the pillows above him, but I heard the sheets in his fists with each light scratch.

“You have such pretty skin,” I sighed, drawing a lazy heart in the center of his back before I explained, “I love how easy it is to color.”

If he put my plans together in that brilliant mind, he said nothing to indicate it. And when I brought my palm down against his bottom, his whole body jerked under the motion. The whimper he gave then, while similar to the last, was much louder now. Within a couple of seconds, he readjusted on the bed, returning to his previous position to correct the way his body tried to flee the punishment.

He was practically asking for me to hit him again, so I did. That time when my palm connected on the other side, I didn’t let him go, roughly holding onto the soft tissue and digging my fingers into the newly reddened skin.

“Tell me why you want me to hurt you.”

I think he wanted to answer my question, but he didn’t. His face was alternating between burying itself in the pillow and turning to take long, slow breaths. Underneath my hand, his body squirmed, trying to get me to move again.

Like I said before… something in me felt like he just wanted to be defiant.

Finally releasing my hold, I quickly brought my hand back down for the third time. Spencer wasn’t so quiet then and how could he be when the skin started to gain more color with each wonderful sound. But I was still waiting for my answer and no amount of cute teetering back and forth would make me forget that.

“I asked you a question.”

The words that followed were not what I expected, to say the least. Because Spencer lifted his head from the pillow, wanting to be certain that I could hear him when he replied in the snarkiest tone imaginable, “No, you didn’t. You demanded an answ—“

I cut him off before he could even finish the thought, my hand striking him with even more force. He collapsed forward, pulling the pillow into a tight hug as he outright sobbed at the stinging sensation covering his bottom.

Mercy wasn’t on my mind and with both hands on his cheeks, I dug my fingers into the burning hot skin and pressed ten white crescent marks into the sea of pinks and reds. “ **Don’t** be a smartass, Spencer,” I barked, earning a frantic nod from the man clearly biting down on the pillow as he tried to still his hips.

If he thought he was scared then, I’d love to have known his thoughts when I removed one hand, clearly ready to strike him again for _still_ not answering my question. Luckily for him, he started to, earning himself a few extra seconds of reprieve.

“I-I want you to hurt me b-because...” he stuttered, slowly lowering himself back down onto the bed, the tension easing from his shoulders as he raised his hips in the air. The action, paired with his sudden silence, was practically begging for me to hit him again.

So I did.

“Because— I trust you!” he said through grounded teeth, his voice wavering with the gentle sobs that shook his whole body, his knees pressing together as he started to rut against the mattress below him. Like it could give him what he wanted.

“You just want me to take care of you, don’t you, baby?” I mocked; the words slurred from the way I pouted. Spencer didn’t mind. He seemed too enraptured by the way my fingertips danced along the marked skin, a tiny trail of white among the hues.

“ _Yes,_ ” he pleaded between short bursts of breath.

But there was something else. There always was with him. As much as I was enjoying myself, I needed to get into his head. It shouldn’t be as hard as it was sometimes, but each time I struck my hand against his skin, I could feel the pain bleed into pleasure.

Because it wasn’t scary when I hit him. Spencer trusted that for every mark I gave him, it would be drowned with love. He knew that I would take care of him above all. It wasn’t scary when Spencer hurt by my hands, because he knew that if he told me to stop, I would. I would hold him in my arms and make sure that nothing hurt again.

He’d never felt that way before.

“You beg me to take care of you, but then you tell me to hurt you,” I said back to him, walking him through the logical steps of his own damaged psyche. “You want to be a good boy, but deep down you know what you are.”

It was the longest we’d gone without another strike, and Spencer was starting to get comfortable. That had been my goal all along— wait until he’d gotten comfortable with the burning and then hit him again. I wanted it to feel new. I wanted to drive home the conclusion I’d reached a long time ago, but never let myself say out loud.

His hands played with the pillow, slowly massaging the plush as he tilted his head down to look at me perched on my knees behind him. Normally I would have told him to turn around, but I didn’t want him to this time. I wanted him to look me in the eyes as I said it.

“You’re a _fucking brat._ ”

The sounds of skin on skin filled the room, but Spencer’s moans quickly followed. No longer muffled by the pillow, I got to hear every tiny inflection, each note that he sang and every whimper that he uttered. It sounded so cute that I couldn’t resist hitting him again.

“Yes!” he cried that time, happily even, his cheeks matching shades of red under my hands.

Reaching forward, I laced my fingers through his hair, grabbing a healthy fistful before I tugged— hard. He scrambled to get his hands on the mattress, his eyes clenched shut and his face twisted in a grimace as I held him up in the distorted position. His hands, once they made it to the sheet, clenched so tightly I watched his knuckles blanch even lighter.

“You’re proud of yourself?” I sneered. “You think disobedience is cute? That this is all just a little game?”

He tried to shake his head no, but my fist in his hair was too tight. Instead, he just whined, probably remembering that he was supposed to use his words, anyway. But then he didn’t, his defiance clear when his eyes finally opened.

“If you want a game, Spencer, I can give you one. But you aren’t going to like that game. Because that game doesn’t involve cuddles and kisses. Do you understand?” I warned.

I watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat, his tongue sweeping over his parched lips before he pulled his bottom lip into his mouth. Chewing on it softly, he tried to give me those damn puppy dog eyes that had always worked before. But that night wasn’t like before.

That night, he had given me permission to break him. And break him I would.

“I think you’ve forgotten who’s in charge here. Who you _belong_ to,” I growled into his ear before I bit down on the lobe, eliciting another squeak from the boy still half dangling from my grip on his hair. “ **Say it.** ”

“I’m yours.” The poor thing was out of breath, his eyes barely able to stay open as he exasperatedly mumbled the words. “I belong to you.”

Having gotten what I wanted, I threw him back forward towards the pillow. His arms only slightly stopped the fall, as they gave out rather quickly from all the excitement. That wasn’t what caught my eyes though. It was the way his hips were still moving, grinding harder and faster against the bed.

I didn’t spank him then, just placed a hand on the bruised skin with what I thought was a clear enough warning. But judging from the fact that he kept going until I roughly grabbed hold of the skin, it obviously wasn’t clear enough.

“You’re so greedy though,” I laughed, hearing the mewl he tried to hide when he was forced to stop the stimulation and replace it with pain. “Don’t tell me that you’ve been a bad boy, Spencer.”

“Never, ma’am.” It was the most assertive he’d been all night, speaking with a perfect clarity that urged me to believe him. But then he went and rambled, a sign that typically meant he was overcompensating for something he didn’t want me to know. “I want to be good for you. I want to—”

He’d missed my concern, which was understandable, considering I was currently sitting against his legs with my hand threatening to strike him again at any point. “You’d never wish I was someone else, right, my love?” I spelled out for him, hating the hint of insecurity that bled through my words.

I hated the way I felt. Because the truth was, no matter how much I told myself not to let Cat get to me, I took her words to heart. Even if it was just coincidence or the last straw that finally broke his nerve, I didn’t like that our first experience like this could be marred with her on either of our minds. It was a simple enough thing to clear up… as long as he was honest.

Spencer turned his head again, our eyes meeting too long for it to have been an accident. He kept them there, trying to let me into that fortress he always kept to himself. With all the love in the world, he whispered, “Never.”

I believed him. Sorry, Cat.

… But at the same time, she could be a useful tool for the both of us. Wouldn’t that just turn her in the grave she’d soon be lowered into? To know that I used her to make him want me more? To know Spencer was raising his hips to present me his cherry-tinted ass so that I would hit him again?

To think she thought she knew the real Spencer. She'd never seen him like this.

“You’re not thinking about that stupid bitch when you’re with me, right?” I asked again, more playfully this time. And from the other side of the bed, I saw Spencer’s lips start to turn into a smile.

“No. You’re the only one I want.”

Nearing the end of my playtime, I decided to push the limits for the first time. When my hand connected with his bottom, his smile didn’t fade. If anything, he seemed to smile harder, his nerves finally rioting against the pain by refusing to feel at all.

“I’m not convinced,” I teased, rubbing the skin just to watch the way his mouth hung open, panting and pleading for me to continue.

“You’re the only one for me, ma’am. I promise. I love you so much.” His words got faster as he watched me raise my hand, the end of his sentence perfectly lining up with the final, brutal slap. There was no smile left, just a desperate moan that was somehow louder than the snapping of our skin. It was the final catalyst, the thing that turned my mounting desire into a forest fire that filled my veins.

I needed him. But I couldn’t let him know how badly.

“Those noises are so addicting, Spencer. You’ll make me never want to stop,” I moaned back, unknowingly riding the back of his thigh. Spencer noticed even when I didn’t, his leg tensing under me and his eyes fluttering shut as he presumably thought of me riding something more fun instead.

“I-I can take it,” he offered, genuine and sweet. But I knew that even if he could, he shouldn’t. As much as I wanted him, I knew what he wanted more.

“No, baby. Turn over,” I instructed, reluctantly freeing him just long enough for him to turn over. I had to chuckle a bit at the way he winced when he felt the warm sheets against the red marks. I would make sure to treat them well later, but for now I had other plans. Crawling on top of him, I saw the stars appear in his eyes, his excitement building so quickly he almost grabbed me in his excitement.

But he remembered that he wanted to be good tonight. Discipline worked well for him, it seemed. I didn’t want to torture the poor thing too much more. Not with how cute he looked as he bit down on his lips, his hands switching from hovering over my hips and the sheets as he watched me hover over his hips.

With one of the same hands I'd used to hit him, I tilted his chin up to me, while the other wrapped around his desperate cock. His entire body jerked, his breath and pulse rapidly rising as he gave the most pitiful attempt at saying my name. Although it sounded like nothing, it was a beautiful nonsense, nonetheless.

“I’m going to make you feel good now. I’m gonna take care of you.” That was the only warning he got before I started to sink down onto his length, slowly as I possibly could with my own desire raging inside of me. It was just so much better, to watch the way he tensed every muscle in his body to try to keep still. A constant barrage of whines and mewls were leaving his lips until he couldn’t take it anymore.

“Fuck,” he said quietly at first, his hands coming up to grip his hair and cover his eyes from me. “Fuck!”

I giggled as I was finally seated, grinding down harder and eliciting a mangled cry from his throat. “Don’t you like it, baby?” I taunted, grabbing his wrists and pulling them away from his face. “You’re using such naughty words.”

As cute as he was, trying to hide the mixture of shame and excitement clear on his face, I wanted to see every bit of it. I wanted to see the evidence of his inner turmoil. I thought back to earlier, feeling him slam me against the wall of the prison with his hand around my neck and I wondered how badly he wanted to take charge then.

But he didn’t. No, he turned his shaking hands and tried to hold mine, dutifully keeping his hips still. “I love you so much,” he said clearly, even through labored breaths. And when I started to move, rocking and raising my hips, he kept on trying like the good boy he was. “I love how you make me feel I...”

A good boy, but one that was making the wrong kind of fuss. After guiding his hands to my hips, where they clearly wanted to be, I brought one hand back to his face, clapping it over his mouth before he could say anything else. I felt the sharp, shaky inhale behind my fingers.

“Shhh. That’s enough,” I shushed despite his sudden silence. “I love hearing you, but I want those other noises now.”

Spencer complied, withholding any commentary beyond the desperate cries of pleasure and unintelligible begs. As I gently rode up and down, my hips finding their own rhythm, I let my eyes close for just a second. He felt so fucking good as he stretched me open, and with him so obedient, there was no trouble at all getting the angle perfect.

The next time I rose my hips, I slammed down on him with my full body weight, and Spencer choked on a sob that never made it out of his throat. It still wasn’t the most interesting thing he did with his mouth though. I opened my eyes at the sound, and what I found was just so fucking adorable.

With my fingers spread over his face, Spencer turned his head until he could capture a couple of them in his mouth, closing his lips around them while he maintained eye contact. Butterflies filled my stomach at the sight, his tongue wrapping around my fingers in his mouth as he moaned, his hips starting to move at the same time he began hungrily sucking on the digits.

“My pretty, greedy boy,” I said through a pleased sigh, letting him get away with the slight rock of his hips. But as it got quicker and his moans started to spread through my fingers still in his mouth, I chuckled. “You’re so close already? Maybe you did deserve your punishment,” I droned, suddenly bringing my fingers down on his tongue. He gagged but didn’t stop moving. I didn’t want him to, and he saw it in my face.

We were both so tired, so ready to reach that point we’d been slowly building to all night. It was so obvious how badly he wanted to please me, to give me everything I wanted exactly how I wanted it to be done. It was precisely that intense desire to be the one to please me that made me want to take it from him. My fingers were already in his mouth, for Christ’s sake. It was meant to be.

“Ladies first, Spencer,” I casually reminded him, pulling my fingers from his lips even as he tried to chase them. He’d already been so helpful; he deserved a chance to watch me come undone. As I lowered my hand between my legs, I watched his eyes start to roll back, his bottom lip caught between his teeth again while he tried to restrain himself.

But he couldn’t stop himself from looking when I started to draw small circles over my clit, my hips starting to move harder and faster. There was little else I could do, my mouth full of moans and my other hand splayed on his chest to try and keep my balance. Spencer saw the way my stomach tensed, felt the way I gripped him and implicitly begged him to push me over the edge, and he was more than happy to oblige.

His hands on my hips finally felt free to move and with that freedom he dug his fingers into my flesh and started to thrust up at a brutal pace. He kept it up too, barely faltering at all when my muscles tensed around him, my nails on his chest turning the skin an angry shade as I found my second release of the night.

Spencer wasn’t done yet though, and neither was I. Out of breath, but with a wild look in my eyes, I looked down at him as he struggled to compose himself. His eyes were darting between my eyes and where our bodies met, enraptured by the way he disappeared inside me. He moaned, quiet and shy. He didn’t want to ask me what he wanted more than anything. He already knew my answer would be _no, not yet_.

“I think I deserve another one. Don’t you, baby?”

Although strained, he managed to give a coherent response. “Please. Let me give it to you,” he pleaded, baring his neck to me for the third time since we started.

It was too good to ignore. My hand wrapped around his neck, my nails digging into the skin just to feel him gasp before I let go again. But just as quickly, I pressed my fingers against his panicked pulse.

“You don’t get to finish until I do,” I reminded him, recognizing the signs of pure frustration as he used his hands on my hips to start to bring me down with each thrust.

“I-I can’t,” whined, giving a few choked sobs. “You feel so fucking good—” He cut himself off when he opened his eyes, no doubt seeing how close I was. That reassurance was what he needed to hold on, to pick up his pace just enough to see me collapse.

I had to remind myself where my hand was, the desire to squeeze too great as I fell forward, my face contorted in pure blinding, overwhelming pleasure. “Spencer!” I cried out, raspy and desperate.

“Fuck!” he responded, finally joining me over the edge once my walls tightened around him again. Already at the height of my orgasm, the warmth filling me inside nearly sent me overboard again. I couldn’t breathe or see, my eyes rolled back and my fingers still feeling the vibrations of his moans and curses.

“Oh, good boy,” I groaned, my head falling back as I continued rocking my hips until we both were too tired to move anymore. “Fuck, that was amazing,” I huffed, my eyes slowly opening to find my poor boyfriend red faced and exhausted, my hand still tightly wrapped around his neck.

I let go as quickly as I could, watching the way he hungrily sucked in air, barely having enough energy to smile, but still trying to, anyway.

Slowly, I lowered myself until I was lying on his chest, feeling the soft, but quick pitter-patter of his heart against my chest. Although it was my job, Spencer’s hands were the ones tenderly stroking my back, his face burying in my neck and peppering kisses anywhere his lips could reach.

I didn’t stop him, recognizing it was his attempt to reassure me that he’d enjoyed himself as much as I had. Even when I bruised and choked him, he was still worried about me first. It was just who he was.

“I’m so proud of you,” I whispered, not realizing I said the words out loud. I didn’t regret them though. He deserved to hear them. I needed him to hear them. What he had done was vulnerable, and it took an outrageous amount of courage and trust. It was a promise to me and himself, that we could get through anything as long as we had each other to hold through it all. Spencer, seemingly reading my mind, paused his kisses just long enough to respond.

“I love you,” he said like a promise.

“I love you, too,” I returned with a smile that didn’t last long. Because just as soon as I started to move, I knew what needed to happen next— and the sleepy boy underneath me was not going to like it. “But I need to clean you up now.”

Spencer started his complaints then with a long, loud groan and he kept the whining going all the way into the shower. The only reprieve I got was when my hands were lost in his locks, gently detangling the mess I’d caused. For a minute I almost thought he’d fall asleep right there, standing in the shower, but thankfully he didn’t. He made it all the way through the shower, managed to dry off, and even shuffle back to the bed, where he promptly faceplanted among the pillows.

I laughed at the sight when I poked my head around the door, seeing my boyfriend presenting his battle wounds to me with no shame whatsoever. He was waiting for what he knew was coming, which is why I laughed when he started to squeak and squirm at the cool sensation of aloe on his bruises. He laughed too, tickled and delirious from the lack of sleep he so clearly craved. So when he started to fall asleep, I let him. I continued to massage his weary muscles and pink skin until I was sure that I couldn’t do any more to help him.

Then I watched him. I saw the way his chest rose and fell with each breath and I considered how lucky I was to see him like this. Earlier that day, he’d been so reserved he hadn’t heard his own name. But then here he was, bare-assed and happily snoozing-- on my pillow, too.

It was so like him to fall asleep with his red, bruised ass on display and his arms and legs spread over the bed. I almost had the energy to be annoyed that I’d have to snake into the tiny sliver available to me on the bed, but I knew that as soon as that brilliant mind registered my presence, he would be on me in an instant.

Sure enough, seconds after my head hit the pillow, his limbs were wrapped around me. He inched down the bed until his cheek rested against my heart. Carefully, I brushed away the hair that had fallen in his face. “Goodnight, baby. Sweet dreams,” I whispered, trying not to wake him from what seemed to be pleasant dreams.

But then he sighed, softly and slowly, with hands clinging to me and bringing me impossibly closer to him. Eventually, the breath steadied, the warmth blooming against my chest and assuring me that he had once again found his peace in my arms.


End file.
